electricity
by ShadowsTakeAll
Summary: As the world around her fades, she even thinks she can hear his voice, calling out a name. But the thing is, it's not her name anymore. [or: it takes a little bit of torture, some bad timing, and a near-death experience for them to realize how they feel.]


**Studying makes me bored and Stalia makes me angry, and then things like this happen. Before anyone yells at me, I don't dislike Malia, it's just that I'm Hufflepuff levels of loyal toward Stydia; so she can stay as long as she stays away from Stiles. Or at least serves the function of making Lydia realize how insanely in love with him she is. As long as I get my Stydia in the end, I'm happy. In the meantime, I'll just write my own. This is set during 4x01, so spoilers up until then, and also a trigger warning because torture (not too graphic, I promise). That's about all there is to it. This is just a quick one-shot I wrote after the season premiere. Read, review, check out my other stories; you know the drill. Enjoy!**

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/

On their way down the hall, she almost tells him. She really does. Her eyes flick up to his and he gives her a grim kind of smile as the door swings closed, because they both know there's no going back. She opens her mouth to tell him how she really feels, but then he says something about how he hopes the pack is ready and she bites her lip instead. Now's not the time.

Somehow, it's never the time.

/

She's almost told him a hundred times before, but it's never the right time. Of course the right time had probably been just after they'd actually kissed, but that ship has long since sailed because for some reason her brain was too busy tripping over the fact that this was _Stiles_she was kissing, so she couldn't think of an eloquent way to say it. Heck, she couldn't think of anything to say, so she'd slapped him lightly on the leg and smiled and made some comment about how she read it somewhere.

She's read about this, too, but that doesn't make it any easier.

/

For her entire life, Lydia has been used to getting what she wants. A flashy new car, the latest iPhone, whichever boy she chose to mess around with that day. So it comes as a surprise when she finally decides what (or rather who) she wants only to find that she can't have him. Because she waited too long and now he's with that werecoyote. It's not that she hates Malia, exactly.

Except that it sort of is.

/

Although Lydia doesn't often seek out anything lighter than a book on theoretical physics or advanced mathematics, occasionally she does let her mind wander. At heart she's a hopeless romantic, only the thing is that she never really understood what it was all about. She'd never felt that desperate tugging of her heartstrings, the quickening of her breath, the absolute aching that comes from wanting someone with everything inside. She feels it now, of course, with every beat of her heart and every step she takes. And she feels it even more strongly every time she looks at him.

Because he's not looking at her anymore.

/

They get split up, of course, and for a second her priorities go flying out the window. She's led into a room with Scott and Kira, which probably means that Stiles and Malia are somewhere else. She should really be more concerned for her own safety but her overriding emotion is jealousy. Stiles is with Malia, like he always is these days. And somehow she's the one getting hurt.

This time it's physical, which is almost easier.

/

Her jealousy gets nudged out by fear when Scott looks up and sees her, and sheer panic shoots through her when he starts pleading for them to let her go. Nobody listens to him, and Lydia finds herself being led toward a chair. As cold metal snaps around her wrists and ankles she listens to the rules of the game – the _test_, she called it – and tries to feel some kind of relief over the fact that she hasn't screamed yet. But then the questions start and so does the torture.

And for once she's not the one screaming.

/

She strains against the cuffs holding her, tries to get to Scott, shouts at them to stop, but it only escalates. Scott tries to answer the questions but he honestly doesn't know where Derek is, and their captors are getting increasingly annoyed. Finally one of them shoves Kira out of the way and takes charge of the dials, and now Lydia's screaming too and she can barely hear Scott over the sound of her own voice. They've stopped asking him questions; now it seems like they're just trying to break him. But somehow, over the sounds of chaos, she hears an order given in a chillingly calm tone.

"Turn the dial on the banshee."

/

At first it's just a tingle, but in a matter of seconds it becomes unbearable. Cold steel pins her to the chair as electricity is shot through her. She can't even hear herself screaming but she can see the others – Kira's horrified face, Scott shouting something that's either a plea or a threat. The pain increases, until Lydia can feel every nerve and every bone and it feels like it's all _snapping_ and she's sure she can't take any more of this. She closes her eyes and that warm familiar face fills her mind. As the world around her fades, she even thinks she can hear his voice, calling out a name.

But the thing is, it's not her name anymore.

/

"Malia!"

The name is ripped from his throat as Stiles watches the werecoyote knock out the two guards. He's not sure whether he's impressed or scared, but he decides to go with the former because it seems more productive. Malia jerks her head toward the open door, raising an eyebrow in a silent question, and Stiles comes to his senses. He follows her down the hall, his heart hammering in his chest, his mind racing. They have Kira. They have Scott. They have Lydia.

But not for long.

/

The open door is the first sign that something's wrong. Malia tells him that this is where her senses led her – it smells like _pack_, she says, and that's good enough for Stiles. An empty chair is the first thing he sees; chains litter the ground around it, looking like they've been forcibly broken. There's another chair beside it, and this one's not empty.

He kind of wishes it was.

/

He's not an expert, but from where Stiles stands it looks like Lydia's not breathing. She's slumped back in the chair, eyes closed, completely still. Stiles goes still too, and at first he doesn't register the significance of his sudden inability to function. But then it hits him. It's not because this is one of his friends, one of his pack mates. It's because it's _Lydia_, and she's different.

She's always been different.

/

When he finally remembers how to move, Stiles stumbles forward. He sinks to his knees beside her, checking for a pulse, brushing a hand across her cheek, feeling his heart drop with every second because there's no indication she's alive at all. He tugs at the chains on her wrists but they're solid, and they're locked, and she's _still not breathing_.

Come to think of it, he isn't either.

/

Something breaks inside him, something he hadn't been aware of until this moment. After his first kiss with Malia, he'd thought he finally found it – the one, the person he was meant to be with. Now he realizes she was here along, and god he'd been stupid. Malia's calling his name, telling him they need to get out of here because the hunters are coming back. She doesn't understand, and she even tries to pull him away. Without thinking he shoves her away; she stumbles a couple steps, looking equal parts confused and hurt. She turns toward the door and then back to him.

"Come on, Stiles. Just leave her behind."

/

He's beyond broken now, and he blames his next actions on grief and anger and whatever other emotion he can think of. Because he shoots to his feet and moves toward her so quickly that Malia takes a step back, and he grabs her shoulders and almost snarls, "We are _not_ leaving her. I know you've been a coyote for years but you're with the pack now, and we don't leave people behind. We don't leave our _friends_ behind. I'm not leaving without Lydia, and if you can't accept that then just get the hell out of here."

She hesitates, and then she does.

/

Realizing he's clutching empty air, Stiles lowers his hands and turns back to Lydia. And then he sees it – the small rise and fall of her chest. A breath, shallow and silent and almost imperceptible, but it's something. And then there's something else – a groan. Stiles spins around and that's when he notices Kira, sprawled on the ground near the door. He'd passed right by her in his haste to get to Lydia. Kira stirs, sitting up slowly, eyes widening as she takes in the scene before her. Then she looks up at Stiles and speaks in a trembling voice.

"I'm sorry."

/

Apologies have always made Stiles nervous, especially because in this instance he doesn't know what she's apologizing for. He helps her to her feet and she sinks into the empty chair beside Lydia, looking faint and confused and like she might pass out at any moment. But she grits her teeth, braces herself, and tells Stiles what happened. Stiles doesn't know what she's apologizing for.

Because she may have saved both of them.

/

"They were t-torturing Scott, and then they started on Lydia. I kn-knew she couldn't take it for long, and I panicked, and somehow I tapped into my kitsune powers and -" she pauses and takes a few shaky breaths "- and I deflected the electricity somehow, back into the generator, only the whole thing blew up and I guess it didn't save Lydia either -"

"Hey. You did the right thing."

/

After a minute that feels like a lifetime, Malia comes back. She's not alone – Scott trails behind her, looking like he just fought off an army. He rallies when he sees the rest of the pack in front of him, and Stiles, who had been crouched between the two chairs, jumps to his feet. He tries to ask if Scott's okay, to ask what happened, but what comes out instead is a plea, directed at his friend – his alpha – Lydia's last hope. And he says it all in one word.

"Sc-Scotty -"

/

Stiles steps out of the way as Scott approaches. Malia stays near the door, and Kira, regaining some of her strength, goes to join her. This leaves the three original members of the pack, and there's something kind of poetic about that. Stiles notices that Scott is bleeding, and dripping sweat, but the alpha doesn't even acknowledge it. All his attention is on Lydia. He reaches for her, takes one of her hands in his, and then he quickly recoils. Stiles feels his heart slam to a stop. He raises his eyebrows, an unspoken question, and Scott shakes his head.

"I can't."

/

Although Stiles wasn't there for it, he knows those are the words Scott said when Allison was dying. He couldn't take her pain because it was already too late. And now it's happening again, and Stiles is here this time, and it's _Lydia_. He feels himself asking a question – _why?_ – and bracing himself for the answer, but it's not what she expects. Because Scott doesn't tell him that Lydia's dead.

"She's not in pain."

/

"Wh-what?" Stiles' head snaps toward Lydia, skimming over her, making sure she's still breathing. She is – _just_ – and it doesn't make sense for her not to be in pain. They'd tortured her, for crying out loud, and now she's unconscious. It had to have hurt. He's about to say something else, but the words die in his throat.

Lydia opens her eyes.

/

The last thing Lydia remembers is a blinding flash of light and a sudden absence of pain, and then a sudden absence of anything. And now she's opening her eyes and Stiles is leaning over her, and it's the first time in two months he's looked at her like this. It's the first time she's felt like this, because as she looks into his eyes she has the strangest feeling.

Like everything will be okay.

/

Scott manages to break the chains and Stiles pulls her to her feet, and as they flee from the room Kira explains what happened; and Lydia gets it – without the kitsune, she would be dead. It was shock, not internal damage, that caused her to black out. Kira leans on Malia the whole time, and Lydia leans on Stiles, and Scott leads the way like the alpha he is. But halfway down the hall, Lydia stops. Because it's never the right time, and it's never going to be.

Which means now is as good a time as any.

/

"What is it? What's wrong?" Stiles asks, and she notices that he holds her tighter, gently taking most of her weight on his shoulders. She pushes away from him slightly, enough so that she can hold her own weight and look into his eyes. Suddenly she doesn't care that the hunters are out there, or that the pack's waiting, or even that they still haven't found Derek. Because this is something she was meant to do months ago.

"I have something to tell you."

/

Something passes between them, some kind of unspoken understanding. But then he smiles, taking her hands in his, and says something that makes her heart leap – _you never had to say it_ – and she just shakes her head slightly. She knows she doesn't have to say it for him to understand, but she does need to say it.

"Stiles, I – I love you."

/

Silence follows her declaration, and she swears she can hear her heart and Stiles' beating in sync. Scott clears his throat and Malia scoffs, and Kira makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a giggle and a delighted squeal. But Lydia hardly notices, because she's still looking at Stiles, waiting for an answer, some kind of acknowledgement, some kind of reassurance. But he doesn't say anything.

He just kisses her.

/

It's slower than their first kiss had been, and more tender. There's still an undertone of panic, but it's masked by genuine affection and mutual understanding. For once, they're on the same page. When they pull away she asks him how he knew that was exactly what she needed. Stiles quirks an eyebrow and grins.

"I read it somewhere."

/

On their way down the hall, she tells him. Again and again. Her eyes keep flicking to him to make sure he's still right beside her, and each time he smiles back with warmth that makes her heart melt, because they both know it's time to move forward. She opens her mouth to tell him how she really feels, but then he catches her in a kiss and she bites his lip instead. Maybe now isn't the right time.

Or maybe now is the perfect time.

/

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**After tomorrow I will be free for a month (finally) so send me any prompts you want, because I'll actually have time to write them. Once again, I hope you enjoyed this, and please review if you have the time. Thanks! :)**


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